An Update One Year Later:
I read every word from last year's post that my nimble, dry hands typed and was overcome with a heavy heart. I was a different person then. But I'm still the same first-gen of my family to be born in America, fighting her identity across two countries where one is home and the other my maker. I've since surrounded myself with more Asian (American) artists, literature, music, Facebook groups—a safe haven of community, a sense of belonging, and a strive to be like that of my idols. But, how much has changed? A year ago, March 16th, 2021, in Atlanta, Georgia, eight people were mercilessly killed of which six were Asian women, working in spas and massage parlors. I remember their names popping up on my feed once again in memoriam, and subsequently disappearing the next day. Names that are Americanized or shortened, mispronounced and never corrected, names that stereotype the person before you even meet them. I live in terror, still. Especially for my small stature of a mother and grandmother, who frequent their Vietnamese communities (usually in the high crime and gentrified neighborhood of White Center in West Seattle and Little Saigon in Downtown Seattle) because an American cashier won't understand my grandma's thick Vietnamese accent as she attempts broken English. I don't want to admit that I am conflicted over May, or APIDA Month, but I am hit with this guilt over where attention is distributed to marginalized communities who are mourning their own kin. Black Lives Matter objectively becomes a trend to society, only resurging out of convenience and at the cost of another body lost. Latine and Indigenous communities are still searching for lost sisters, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and girls and women everywhere. Middle Eastern families are constantly under scrutiny and Western and domestic forces that leave millions of people, children, adults, or the elderly, dead. Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders are begrudgingly still the model minority and the fragile and helpless "tiger lily" trope that is an excuse to oversexualize and desensitize us to our own discrimination. I have yet to accept my grief because it is only felt by few. I have yet to see a world that offers love for the communities that need it most. Wherever the news decides to focus on, please remember that we can only hold so much within ourselves. That your grief and sadness is honored even if no one knows, inner or outer circle. We can band together and through our experiences find a common ground that offers opportunity, communal care, and more importantly, a reminder to celebrate who we are aside from our trauma. Our oppression does not diminish our agency. I firmly believe there is power in numbers, and every passing day is another reason why America needs to undergo deep and intense reformation. Maybe you already knew this, and maybe I needed to write these words for me. And so, May still arrives and since then the release of Shang-Chi and its star-studded cast left Asian Americans everywhere cheering for joy. Kumail Nanjiani has become one of the most beloved actors for his humor and good looks. Chloé Zhao and Suni Lee are young, female, Asian gold medalists in both Winter and Summer Olympics. We are reminded of our losses and wins as is the reality of many marginalized groups. Asians (Americans) continue to accomplish "first's" in Hollywood's eyes, but must double our efforts still in exposing injustices that are left unheard and unseen. The finish line is far from visible, but what is most important are the people on the sidelines, whoever shows up, as we make our way forward. As you take in my words, dear reader, I hope that you never forget to love who you are in spite of all that has burdened you. I hope you find victories in both small and big places. I hope one day my children with their Vietnamese blood surging through their veins, and your children, dear reader, never have to question the suffering of others and work to spread love and kindness. April Showers bring May Flowers, and so, May Flowers bring Asians Joy. ____________________________________________________________ May 21st, 2021 Would you believe me if I said I used to want to be white? I was an elementary school kid on the playgrounds with a diverse cohort of students, and yet, a majority of them, even the Asian Americans, thought it was funny to call me a "chink". Not far into my senior year of high school, I had a break-through moment when a teacher outwardly admitted to me that it was hard to distinguish myself and a peer of mine because we looked so similar. I was a Vietnamese American with short hair and donned either a flannel or button-up. My friend was a Chinese American with long hair and wore leggings on a regular basis. Our friends had no problem addressing either of us respectively, so why was it a recurring and arguably acceptable thing for teachers, all of whom were white, to not only lack the effort to remember our names but to try and play it off as a joke? These events are only some of the experiences I have had with individuals, mostly white, who abused their privilege and positionality to then discredit or invalidate my feelings when I called them out or made a game out of how many times someone mistook me for an Asian American that did not at all resemble me. It is hard to celebrate a month where it was not until my senior year of high school that I embraced this part of my identity. It is hard to celebrate a month where I am distraught with news after news of acts of violence against Asian Americans (especially elders) who are bloodied or dead while their perpetrator runs free. It is hard to celebrate a month where even within the confines of my Asian American (emphasis on the latter) and my white partner's home, my racial and ethnic identity are disregarded. And so, I celebrate quietly. I give a "like" to Instagram posts trying to shed light onto this month and reasons why they're proud to be part of the APIDA community. I "hoorah" in solidarity when my Asian American peers passionately speak to me about why this month matters to them. But dear fellow reader, do not mistake my reservedness as not being proud. I am filled with joy and love as much as the next person. I take pride in my identity and the way it intersects with my queerness or other parts of who I am. I love my small wide nose. I love that my eyes switch between having creases or not. I love my thick black hair. I love to say my last name properly because for so long I had pronounced it otherwise. I love my immigrant family and the sacrifices and risks they took to get to America. I love the smell of pho and knowing the difference between spring and egg rolls. I embrace every stereotype, every nuance, every detail that comes from my racial and ethnic identities. And so, I hope dear reader, that when you see someone like me, or anyone who fits within the Asian diaspora, that you understand why such a month exists and its necessity. If I could go back in time when I remained complacent to someone shutting me down or disrespecting me, I would. And yet, it is people like them that gives me all the more incentive to fight back. Because if no one else, who will? Dear reader, the very act of resistance and rebellion is above all else, founded in love. When you walk into the next Asian American restaurant and eat our food, make an effort to learn its history and the correct pronunciation of their name. When you listen to music from Asian artists, do not make fun of our mother tongue simply because the layers of intonation, context, pronunciation, sound funny to you. When you sit to get your nails done, I can assure you that whatever those hard working employees having to deal with your gross feet and hands are saying, is none of your business. Check in on your Asian American friends when the news comes up because I can guarantee they would rather have someone uncomfortably reach out than nothing at all. And more so, do not use this month to forget the persistent efforts of other marginalized groups. The U.S. has thought it upon themselves to dedicate one out of twelve months to celebrate a minority, but for us, it is everyday. I write this out of anger. I write this out of love. I write this and hope that one day, I won't have to worry about going to the store. Thank you for reading. And if you are a fellow Asian American taking the time to read this, thank you as well. I hear you. I see you. I'm with you. -Kimberly Le (daughter of two Vietnamese immigrants)
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As I write this, it is in the midst of a multitude of collective crises and personal life changes as a full-time student teacher. One thing that I have learned to be true is that I need to take breaks when I can or else I will suffer from severe burnout. Real breaks. “Doomscrolling” on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook in bed is not a break. Doing revisions on a lesson plan is not a break. These things are hard for me to disengage from when I am not actively attending to other things that are school or work related, yet they still tax my brain in a similar way. Being ADHD, it can be hard to slow down without falling asleep, and simply sleeping does not always prevent burnout as I feel like I have no time for myself. For this reason, I typically try to watch a calm or comforting movie or show and eat a small dessert before turning in for the night. I know that the last time that I made a post like this, it was for specifically LGBTQIA+ content. Some of the recommendations below do fit the bill for that, but I did expand the criteria for this post to current media that has been making me feel good lately. tJoe Pera Talks With You (2018-present; Available on Adult Swim, HBO Max, and Hulu) Joe Pera, a fictionalized version of the real-life comedian played by himself, has a soft-spoken and sweet albeit mildly off-beat charm about him. It is a stark contrast to the often chaotic, obscene, and absurd animated series that air on Adult Swim. The series is set in a small Michigan town in which Joe is a middle school choir teacher who narrates his life and inner thoughts. Some episodes are simply about his day trips to get breakfast at a diner or shopping for groceries, though a loose narrative is woven throughout the series. After my partner suggested it to me, I found myself quickly becoming attached to Joe and his loved ones through the most mundane things that occur. The first season has far fewer highs and lows than the second season does, but a lot of subtle build up is done to get there. I would say that the third season is a nice blend of the first two while also having its own unique and unpredictable traits about it. Most of the episodes are nice to rewatch or have on in the background while I do other things, such as “Joe Pera Talks You Back to Sleep.” In that one and many others, Joe tends to go on various tangents which are supported visually onscreen, providing almost an ASMR-esque effect since his voice is very soothing. Even when more complicated situations occur around him or even involving him later on, at no point was I afraid that something too mentally taxing or traumatic would occur. I would definitely recommend checking it out sometime if you want to try something that’s a little different and sweet. Our Flag Means Death (Premiered in 2022; Available on HBO Max) I will try my best to convey how and why I love this series so much currently without spoilers, but it was the ways in which it surprised me that won me over. Though I have been a lifelong pirate fan as well as having viewed Taika Waititi’s work favorably in the past few years, I was reluctant to get too excited over the idea of Our Flag Means Death at first. Between the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise and the series Black Sails, mainstream media involving piracy piqued my interest enough, but never left me feeling all that intrigued or satisfied. (The exceptions to that rule were the children’s films Hook and Muppet Treasure Island, of course!) In my view, Waititi and his team took everything enjoyable from what had already been done and then proceeded to also subvert many narratives. Race, sexuality, gender, and class are not shied away from and affect the ensemble of characters in different and intersecting ways, making them relatable and whole. People of color navigate the racism of the mainstream society they are criminals in, multiple main and recurring characters serve as solid LGBTQIA+ representation, and those from different socioeconomic backgrounds exchange perspectives. These factors could be troubling to some viewers, but I found that this series was surprisingly trauma-informed in its handling of many of the characters’ stories. While the series is mostly a comedy and does that well, the way in which the characters all handle trauma from the hardships in their lives is a major part of the first season. Watching some of the interactions between friends and lovers, some of which were previously rivals, was surprisingly beautiful to watch play out! I have very high hopes that this series will not disappoint in the future, which isn’t something that I get to say often!
Their songs from my childhood included “No One” and “Rush,” though “Chemicals React” was my favorite since I’ve always been a bit of a romantic. Eventually, years passed without me having thought about them entirely. This wasn’t out of spite, but instead for probably thinking that either I had outgrown them or that they stopped making music. Goodness, I was wrong about both! Under serendipitous events, one of my best friends invited me to their concert during my spring break and I all too happily obliged! Naturally, I took to relistening to some familiar tracks from my childhood while also discovering plenty of newer content. While the duo did take a hiatus for a few years, they had a comeback in 2015 and have been actively recording and touring since then. Most of their newer work is mellow and heartfelt, while other tracks are more like experimental EDM. A few of my favorites that I found in preparation for the concert are “Pretty Places,” “Slow Dancing,” and “Joan of Arc On The Dancefloor.” Once the time of the concert rolled around, I knew that no matter what they played, I would have a great time. Again, my expectations were blown out of the water! The environment of the concert was remarkably inviting and warm. I credit that largely to Aly and AJ as people and who they draw to their shows. To my luck, they even threw in a few songs from their Disney days, which caused many of their fans to either go wild or tear up (myself included). Beyond the music, they also took time to openly support and encourage those attending to donate to the organizations the TREVOR Project and To Write Love On Her Arms. In my view, these two have held up well for over a decade and I don’t think that it is due to nostalgia alone. If you haven’t heard of them before or, like me, haven’t revisited their work in a while, I would highly recommend checking them out!
- Bek Content warning: Mentions of blood and needles
For those who may not know, I am currently a student teacher! I have been doing my internship at an amazing alternative high school since September and will be there through June. In collaboration with Cascade Regional Blood Center, their Leadership team put on what I believe was their second blood drive of the school year recently. Knowing that there has been a national donation shortage, I was glad to be able to participate for this one since it fell during one of the field weeks I had scheduled to be at the school. It was my very first time doing so and I was excited to help out and participate alongside students and other faculty. That being said, there were a few things that I noticed that stood out to me as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community. Since I have not been able to legally change my name and gender marker on my official documentation, I knew that providing such information for the donation would be a source of discomfort, but that is not unusual for me. I did try to be as discrete as possible about providing my legal name as my students don’t know me as that at all and I would prefer to keep it that way. Upon checking in, I quietly provided two of the blood center employees with my ID card and verbally stated that I preferred to be called “Bek.” I jokingly remarked that I would also prefer that my legal name wasn’t shared loudly in spite of it being used for documentation purposes because there were students nearby. Being that my name isn’t that different than my legal name, one of the employees that I was joking with quipped back that the students could probably guess what my “real name is.” I didn’t take it personally and simply explained that I’m actually trans and just haven’t had the chance to change my documents yet due to COVID-19 and other personal factors. Both employees were very understanding, and one even asked if I would prefer to have my gender marker set as the other binary option available. Being nonbinary, I thanked them but asked if there was an “X” marker instead, as that is what I am planning to change to on my ID. They shared that their software was really old and that they were not sure if that would be possible until their update next month. However, they did document it as “X” on the document I would keep with me for the duration of the appointment as well as my pronouns, highlighting both. Not only did I find this to be very thoughtful, but it was also nice to speak candidly about my gender identity and ask them about the nuances of how they go about their documentation. Often times in regard to most things medical-related, people get awkward or defensive when I share my gender identity with them, and it can be pretty uncomfortable. The most uncomfortable part (beside some of the latter portion involving a needle) was simply reading through and filling out the survey prior to getting my vitals checked. I was reminded of how regressive the views about LGBTQIA+ people who were assigned male at birth and sex workers are from a medical viewpoint. While I understand that blood centers must be mindful of bloodborne viruses, there were some questions that I felt were missing that could easily apply to more people as well as there being some language present that was rather demeaning to the two prior mentioned groups. It was a moment in which I was able to check my privileges in the situation while also being rather upset about the current state of things, especially during a shortage. This is something that I have discussed at length with my partner, who is a nurse, to ensure that I’m not misunderstanding what is happening. He has confirmed that there is still a big issue with stigma in connection to upholding cisnormativity, heteronormativity and mononormativity in the field, which often results in hypocrisy. My vitals were taken smoothly afterward, and I was eventually paired with a blood center employee who I ended up clicking rather well with. It was one of those delightful moments in which two trans people see each other and can kind of relax a bit. It can be hard to describe, but it typically starts with questions and comments that are approached a bit gingerly such as pronouns and style before devolving into inside jokes. Being paired with this person certainly put me more at ease than I was originally since I was seen for who I am and got to laugh! With that said, my arms ended up betraying me. In spite of being in good health, getting as hydrated as I could, and having “great” veins, neither of my arms provided enough blood at a quick enough pace for me to be able to actually donate the proper amount. It was a noble effort on both of mine, my new friend’s, and another employee’s parts to try to get what they could from either arm, but it just didn’t work out. Though I was pretty disappointed by this, I was still proud to say that I tried and having this first experience was helpful as I now know what to expect. Beyond now knowing what the process is like, I know that the students also saw me there and not only did I cheer them on, but they encouraged me too. As a queer educator, I want to continue to show up in different spaces, even if it makes me uncomfortable at times. Good things are worth doing for the sake of doing them alone, but the visibility comes to mean more when you are a person with multiple marginalized identities and have young people watching you. This experience was a reminder of that for me and provides encouragement to try again and also to stay true to myself when I do so. Additionally, I want to keep asking the hard questions regarding who is singled out due to stigma and how the language used around the process can be more inclusive and accurate. I will include some resources below for those who would like further information about blood donation locally and what the current eligibility requirements are. -Bek Further Reading "Donor Eligibility Rules." Cascade Regional Blood Services, 2020, www.crbs.net/donate/donor-eligibility-rules-update-9-2020/. "LGBTQ+ Donors." American Red Cross Blood Services, www.redcrossblood.org/donate-blood/how-to-donate/eligibility-requirements/lgbtq-donors.html. |
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January 2024
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